


Poetry or Truth?

by awed_frog



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Episode: The Abominable Bride, M/M, Meta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-07
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:39:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/awed_frog/pseuds/awed_frog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What, exactly, is going on between John and Sherlock? Well: we know what. To anyone with eyes, this is a love story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Poetry or Truth?

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been watching _Sherlock_ from the very beginning and I love it to bits, but this is my first AO3 thing about it, so - Hi guys! Nice to meet you all! :)
> 
>  
> 
> Glossary
> 
> Sherlock - Sherlock IRL  
> Holmes - Victorian!Sherlock  
> John - John IRL  
> Watson - Victorian!John  
> MP - mind palace

Our latest mystery (or, as Sherlock would call it, our latest _case_ ) is about a woman who threatened random passers-by before shooting herself dead (before coming back to life and shooting her husband dead); a woman who has been described _white as death, mouth like a crimson wound_.

“Poetry or truth?” asks a very superior Holmes, and from there his investigation begins.

If we are to come out the other side, we must hold on for dear life, as it’s always the case with _Sherlock_ ; and also remember what both Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss have so clearly stated (“This is not a detective show; this is a show about a detective.”). When we bear that in mind, it all makes sense. This Victorian special actually takes place inside Sherlock’s mind, and the whole thing lasts perhaps ten minutes in real life: the time for Mycroft to make a call, for the plane to land; for John and the others to find a semi-conscious Sherlock on board; for Sherlock to survive an OD and come to. The time for them all to step out of the plane and start planning their next move (well: Sherlock would have us believe that he already knows what their next move should be, but he does have a very heightened sense of the dramatic, so).

What this means is that we could be tempted to describe this episode more as poetry than truth (a story Sherlock weaves inside his own mind); but, since the inside of his mind is the precise point of this whole series (again:“(..) a show about a detective.”), I argue that this episode is mostly truth.

There are many things I found interesting and incredibly well-made and gloriously complicated about _The Abominable Bride_ , which is why I decided to go ahead and try to unravel them in a meta. However, I’m far from being a Conan Doyle scholar of any description, so if you notice I’m saying something foolish, please correct me. Comments are very welcome.

I thought I’d start with the whole feminism issue, since some people seem to have taken offense. Now, given the many and varied roles for women we find in _Sherlock_ (and the way women are generally portrayed and spoken about), accusing the show of mansplaining feminism is, in my view, PC gone mad. This accusation also disregards the fact that all we’re seeing is actually taking place inside Sherlock’s head. None of it is real, none of it is objective, and (obviously) none of it reflects Moffat’s or Gatiss’ personal opinions on the matter. 

Now, as far as I can see, in _The Abominable Bride_ women are placeholders for three different things.

First, from a narrative point of view, they are a kind of tongue-in-cheek wink at the viewers, as Moffat and Gatiss remind us that, in a Victorian society, these wonderful characters we’ve grown to love (like Molly Hooper) would never have the freedom to pursue their aspirations; and that other characters we also love (like John or Lestrade) would quite naturally be bewildered to find out that their wives’ and sisters’ had _any_ aspirations at all. Very often, we see strong female characters in Victorian dramas, and this is perhaps due to the fact that our understanding of the period is influenced by writers like the Brontë sisters, whose characters (and actual selves) were so independent as to be almost anachronistic. Personally, therefore, I loved how the writers danced around the issue - loved that sweet moment between John and Mary (“And am I just to sit here?” - “Not at all, my dear. We’ll be hungry later.”); all those reminders of how far we’ve come as a society. No mansplaining here: instead, actual feminism, thank you very much. 

Secondly, women are actual women, and Sherlock, through Holmes, acknowledges (as he did in previous episodes) that he doesn’t understand much about them (that he’s not particularly interested to). The simple truth of the matter is that Sherlock judges women the same way he judges men (the same way he judges anything and everything): are they interesting? Or are they boring? From this point of view, there is no misogyny at all here. A bit of misanthropy, perhaps, but that’s hardly news for Sherlock. It’s doubtful Holmes had ever given a thought about the condition of women before embarking on the Abominable Bride case, but when forced to (when speaking to Lord Carmichael, and, most notably, during his speech in the abandoned church) he freely admits the whole business is a disgrace. So far, so good. 

Thirdly, I think the women in Sherlock’s MP tend to represent (in this episode) his emotional side, and this in accordance with the Victorian ideal (women were allowed, even expected, to be emotional, hare-brained creatures, while men were held to firmer standards of rational thought and behaviour). If we go along with this, Holmes’ final speech takes on a rather different undertone. 

“Ignored, patronised, disregarded. Not allowed so much as a vote. But an army nonetheless, ready to rise up in the best of causes.”

The fact is, Sherlock has come to recognise, during the course of season 3, that he _does_ , in fact, _feel_ things, and that those feelings are to be validated and accepted when they lead to the greater good. His decision to shoot Magnussen at the end of _The Last Vow_ stems precisely from such a reasoning - Sherlock wants (needs) John to be safe, and killing Magnussen is the only way to ensure this. That this is an irrational, emotional decision (leading, in fact, to Sherlock’s own demise) is unimportant. Sherlock’s self-sacrifice on the terrace of the Appledore is the mirror opposite of his near-suicide at the end of _A Study in Pink_ (a selfish gesture, dictated by cold reason and statistical odds) and, perhaps, the greatest sign of how much the character has changed in the course of three seasons.

Still, Sherlock’s emotional side feels trapped and unwanted and bored, bored, bored. With John married and out of 221B, Baker Street, Sherlock has no outlet for these emotions. Like the women of his Victorian fantasy, they are stuck in the background, and the whole suffragette conspiracy is perhaps a hint of greater things to come - of Sherlock’s necessity to bring these emotions of his to the forefront of his mind before they overcome him and become dangerous. If so, this will be a major change for him, and will have potentially disastrous consequences, but, as Victorian!Mycroft (the force at the helm of Sherlock’s MP) says, “This is a war we must lose”: I say, bring it on.

And speaking of women, what have we learned about Mary in this episode? 

Well. In the real world, Mary is still as sharp and unsettling as ever. Despite her more domesticated appearance - the traditional role of wife and mother, made aggressively visible by her pregnancy - she effortlessly hacks into the MI5 archives, and she’s unapologetic about it. That scene is also interesting, in my opinion, because of how it is shot. Since she and Mycroft are having a conversation and are sitting almost side by side, it would have been easy (and the normal thing to do, perhaps) to frame them together. Instead, the camera moves from one to the other, keeping them in separate frames. Whatever Mary is, she’s not on anyone’s side but her own, it seems - but we guessed as much from _The Last Vow_ , so that’s not news. 

It is, however, confirmed that Sherlock is very much aware of this because the role he has Mary play in his Victorian tale. Despite (allegedly) being a suffragette herself, and despite having heard a very tame rendition of what Emilia Ricoletti had endured at the hands of men (first Eustace Carmichael’s, and then her husband’s), unlike everyone else Mary remains incapable of comprehending why anyone would act in an unselfish way (“But why would she do that? Die to prove a point?”). Mary is, first and foremost, a self-serving creature (but, then again, this is central to the psychopathic personality). After all, she did not hesitate to shoot Sherlock knowing very well what his death would mean for John, a man she protests to love. And Sherlock, despite having forgiven her, has apparently filed away this information. Good for him.

But what role, exactly, _does_ Mary play in Sherlock’s MP? 

On the surface, everything seems well. When Watson questions the sanity of going after a bunch of murderers after a cocaine overdose (“Are you even in a fit state?”), Holmes replies, “For Mary? Of course. Never doubt that, Watson”.

 _Sed contra_ : despite some feeble attempt to find an alternate place for himself around Watson and Victorian!Mary’s relationship as Watson’s ‘father’ (“They do grow up so fast.”) - thus transforming what is a romantic (and sexual) arrangement between Watson and Victorian!Mary in a more neutral ‘mother-son’ relationship - the charade does not hold. At the end of his Victorian fantasy, Holmes’ relationship to Watson echoes what happens outside, in the real world. In the church scene, Watson talks to his wife (“I thought I was losing you. I thought that perhaps we were - neglecting each other.”), but Sherlock (framed with Mary, and, unlike her, looking at Watson as he speaks), replies (“Well, you’re the one who moved out.”) - an echo of his confusion in _The Blind Banker_ (“A date (...). It’s where two people who like each other go out and have fun.” - “That’s why I was suggesting”) and his (subconscious) wishful thinking in _The Sign of Three_ (when he has to be asked twice to step aside so the photographer can take a picture of the ‘real’ bride and groom).

Mary is therefore confirmed as an obstacle, someone who has taken Sherlock’s rightful place in John’s affections. More on that later.

And finally: it seems Sherlock is still incapable, even within the confines of his own mind, to suspect Mary of any wrongdoing. Despite the fact she shot him (and very nearly killed him) in real life; despite the fact she lied to John about her identity - Sherlock is ready to declare, as he did at the end of _The Last Vow_ , that he’ll do anything to keep Mary safe. We can easily surmise Sherlock is forcing himself to accept Mary, to like her and protect her, for John. Because, yes, he likes her because she’s clever, and he tends to underestimate her because that’s what he does (because he’s arrogant and self-centered and overconfident in his own cleverness), but we know he knew from the beginning she was hiding something ( _Liar_ , the white words around her head said, the first time they met) - and that he chose _not_ to investigate that because John loved her; because John had chosen her; because Mary had put John back together after Sherlock had (unwittingly and unintentionally) broken him apart. Mary is the price Sherlock has to pay to be part of John’s life again. 

What’s interesting, though, is that part of Sherlock’s subconscious does not believe this overly simplified fairy tale. From the very beginning, Mary is framed like a client, not a friend - the scene was eerily reminiscent of that other time Mary was a client in 221B, and Watson’s puzzled exasperation was in sharp contrast with the self-hatred and the rage he’d displayed in _The Last Vow_. Like that other time, she is dressed all in black (she looks too much like a widow for us not to worry about John - because Sherlock does _indeed_ worry about John’s safety), but this time she’s wearing lace, not combat gear, and her face is covered, which means my first thought (and, I surmise, everyone else’s) was that she _was_ , in fact, the eponymous Abominable Bride. Despite all this, Holmes still recognizes her - he recognizes her, in fact, when John does not, something else which frames the two of them (dangerous psychopaths who live and breathe for ‘the Game’) against poor John/Watson (a normal person).

Something else which had me wondering for a full minute is the note Victorian!Mary gets from Victorian!Mycroft. It is signed simply as ‘M’, which leads us (me) to believe it may be from Moriarty. I must admit I couldn’t remember or find out if Moriarty has ever signed himself as ‘M’ in canon, but Conan Doyle (and Holmes) call him ‘the Napoleon of crime’ and Napoleon’s symbol was a wreathed ‘N’ - a symbol very similar to the elaborate ‘M’ on Victorian!Mary’s note. Even if Sherlock’s subconscious won’t go as far as to say Mary _is_ working for Moriarty, therefore, it definitely puts her up to something; has her working separately from him and John (and, perhaps, in opposition to them). What supports this reading is the fact that Victorian!Mary is, as she herself states (“This is the heart of it all, John. The heart of the conspiracy.”) at the very centre of the murderous plot: not only because, as a woman (as the ignored and disregarded wife of a wealthy doctor/writer) she fits the profile of the real murderers (Lady Carmichael and Emilia Ricoletti), but because she is _literally_ there - she is the one who discovered it all, who led Holmes and Watson to the church (to Moriarty in a wedding dress).

It seems to me, therefore, that what we learned from _The Abominable Bride_ is that Sherlock still doesn’t trust Mary, which seems to be a sensible decision. I guess we’ll have to wait and see how deep this mistrust is buried, though - and if it’s justified.

So, in the MP Victorian!Mary is working with Victorian!Mycroft; in real life, Mary is framed in opposition to Mycroft. And what is Mycroft doing?

Well, Mycroft seems to be becoming, at first sight, a bit softer around the edges. We’ve now learned he was there when Sherlock ODed (was that the first time it happened?), and that he’s still deeply concerned about his kid brother’s self-destructive habits. When I thought about what we’ve seen of Mycroft so far, thought, I had to water down my first impression. Mycroft was introduced as some kind of evil supervillain, yes, but he’s always been a softie. From the very beginning, he was seen fretting over Sherlock’s wellbeing; only last season, he pleaded to be saved from a night out with his parents (this man: the so-called most powerful man in England). It seems to me, therefore, that Mycroft has not really changed at all since the first time we saw him; the only difference is that he now accepts the fact that John will _always_ be there for Sherlock (will be there even when Mycroft himself cannot). What he failed to achieve with a bribe in _A Study in Pink_ he now secures simply with a couple of heartfelt words (“Doctor Watson - look after him. Please.”).

Much more concerning is Victorian!Mycroft. Our first guess as to why Victorian!Mycroft is such a glutton in the MP (and dangerously obese at that) is that this must be an internal joke between the two brothers. After all, we’ve seen Sherlock quip at Mycroft’s weight before, and we’ve seen Mycroft dutifully hop on and off his treadmill in his MI5 office. Victorian!Mycroft, however, is not only fat: he’s dying. Now, we could try and link this to a (possible) impending death of the actual Mycroft, but I think that would be a mistake. This is not reality: it’s Sherlock’s mind. The fact that Victorian!Mycroft is larger than life has to do more with how Sherlock sees _himself_ than with anything pertaining to the _real_ Mycroft Holmes.

First of all, we already know (mostly from _The Last Vow_ ) that, in the mind palace, Mycroft represents Sherlock’s rationality. He’s the one who guides Sherlock towards the truth of his own would-be murder, after all. He’s cold logic and reason and everything Sherlock aspires to be and is not; he is, simply put, in charge of Sherlock’s subconscious (a subconscious in which, as we know, Sherlock is still sometimes a child). The fact that Victorian!Mycroft takes up so much space, therefore, is to be linked with that silent (and murderous) majority of disregarded women. Sherlock is trying to clamp down on his emotions, and the only way to do that is by expanding his rational mind; give it more control. This operation, however, is forced, artificial (it was once second nature; _once_ meaning: before John). The result, therefore, is comical, grotesque. MP!Mycroft is no longer the imposing figure he was in _The Last Vow_ (a frightening grownup scolding child!Sherlock from behind a huge mahogany desk); instead, he is a man too fat to walk; a prisoner of his own indulgences.

He is however, still as sharp as ever, and definitely in control despite his fastly approaching doom. Before MP!Moriarty, before Watson, he’s the one to point out the truth about Holmes - or, more accurately: the truth about how Sherlock sees himself - (“Pure reason toppled by sheer melodrama. Your life in a nutshell.” - a comment which coincides, almost word for word, with what John once said in anger) and that everything around them is actually a fantasy (“Yet here I am, increased. What does that tell the foremost criminal investigator in England?”). 

Also, he’s dying. In my opinion, Victorian!Mycroft’s deathwish has nothing to do with Mycroft’s health. It is, on the contrary, a key aspect of Sherlock’s personality (to be right, or else). What we see Victorian!Mycroft do when he places a bet on his own demise is exactly what we’ve seen Sherlock do at the end of _A Study in Pink_. We thought that this self-destructive behaviour had been toned down; that it had perhaps disappeared completely. We were wrong. Whether it has emerged again because Sherlock knew he had only weeks to live once he was sent to Eastern Europe, or whether it has to do with the fact John is no longer romantically interested in him (as far as Sherlock understands it) is anyone’s guess. What we _do_ know, though, is that Sherlock _did_ , in fact, ingest enough drugs to OD. So, again, we are back to _A Study in Pink_ , and, again, it’s John (as Watson) who saves him, this time by encouraging Sherlock to wake up.

Which leads me to _what_ , exactly, is going on between John and Sherlock. Well: we know what. To anyone with eyes, this is a love story. I won’t go into detail now, because better quills have already taken care of that, but, personally, I love the dynamic between them, and it was a real treat to get Sherlock’s point of view on this whole mess which is their relationship.

What should not, perhaps, surprise us is that the love story is framed as such from the very beginning. The scenes which were chosen for the _Previously, on_ Sherlock were - pardon my French - incredibly shippy. We had their first meeting, then Mycroft’s quip (“Since yesterday you've moved in with him and now you're solving crimes together,” and has anyone forgotten has this sentence ends?); then Sherlock acknowledging and yet refusing John’s admiration (“Don’t make people into heroes, John.”). John was directly linked to Moriarty’s heart threat, and, again, we all remember this is what actually happened on the show: John was indeed Moriarty’s primary target, and for that very reason. The incongruous (if you’re not reading this is a romantic comedy) “Are you wearing any pants?” scene. The “Just the two of us against the rest of the world” scene, only this time it is bookended by John and Sherlock holding hands, and not by what actually happened (John headbutting Sherlock). Sherlock as a miracle worker (for John - twice). John seeing right through Sherlock (“You are not a puzzle solver, you never have been. You're a drama queen!”), and yet (despite what Sherlock so obviously fears) still putting up with him. And, finally, the self-restrained, heartbreaking goodbye we had at the very end of _The Last Vow_ : “To the very best of times, John”. 

So, since this whole episode took place inside Sherlock’s mind, we don’t see much of the actual characters. What we know, though: Sherlock ODed while reading John’s blog (by reading about the day they met); and John is wearing a dark-coloured shirt at the airport (he only does that when he’s feeling very blue indeed - at Sherlock’s funeral; speaking to his psychologist after Sherlock’s ‘death’; while watching the birthday video Sherlock had reluctantly taken part in in _Many Happy Returns_ ). Despite what they _should_ be feeling, then - John can now be normal and be with his wife and child; Sherlock can go on playing until he dies, and he’s not like he cares, one way or the other - both of them are actually depressed, if not suicidal. Which, for me, is already confirmation enough that what they have between them is much deeper than friendship.

But, well: onwards.

We know from previous experiences that MP!John is peculiar creature. He doesn’t seem to be an aspect of Sherlock’s personality (Mycroft: cold reason; Moriarty: irrationality); he’s simply - himself. A better-dressed version of himself (and that’s how we knew that the second flashback to reality was not, in fact real: look at John’s shirt) but himself nonetheless. In _The Abominable Bride_ he’s actually self-aware, in a way (“I'm a storyteller, I know when I'm in one.”): by the end, completely _himself_. What this tells us is that John has become so essential in Sherlock’s life, so useful, just as he is, just by being there and being himself, that Sherlock has included John inside his mind palace, allowing him the play the role John plays in real life (help and comfort). This is very significant in ascertaining John’s importance in Sherlock’s life, obviously, but it also means that MP!John - and, in this case, Watson - is the real John; or, at least, how Sherlock sees John (perhaps how he _wishes_ John would be).

And who, then, is Watson?

Something which is very noticeable is how over-the-top everyone is in Sherlock’s fantasy. MP!Lestrade is barely able to function, MP!Molly is not only trapped in a men’s world but actually _dressed_ as a man, mustache and all. MP!Mrs Hudson is almost childishly petulant and much too involved in Watson’s stories and her own role in them. MP!Moriarty and MP!Mycroft are grossly exaggerated versions of their true selves, as is MP!Mary. And Watson - what is accentuated in Watson is a romantic inclination to believe in the supernatural and give in to his fears (the possibility of ghosts) even if he’s afraid of it (this in contrast with, for instance, his behaviour in _The Hounds of Baskerville_ ). Also, an interest in romance, _tout court_.

This means that Watson is not out of character as John, but he’s an exaggerated version of him: more emotional than John; a tad more irrational. He’s careful with narrative structures, but he’s also afraid of ghosts and desperate to have The Talk with Sherlock (more on this later). He’s oblivious to his own wife, but follows Sherlock around so much he’s become (as he is in real life) the buffer between Holmes and other people (see the first carriage scene, and how he’s constantly striving to translate 'HolmesSpeak' into proper English for other people); and, as it happens in real life, other people can see this deep relationship well enough. However, this being Victorian England, they prefer to frame it as a father/son relationship rather than assume romantic entanglements of any description (“Oh, isn’t he observant, now that Daddy’s gone!” scoffs Molly in the morgue). In contrast to John, who was always keen (though not so much in season 2) to keep some kind of healthy distance between them (“I hope not.” - “We have to be more careful.” - “Confirmed bachelor John Watson! What are they implying?”), Watson actively modifies his own appearance in order to be more easily recognised as Holmes’ companion (“I've had to grow this moustache just so people will recognise me.”). As it happened in real life, though, despite this proximity and the work they do together, Watson is definitely gone from Holmes’ life (at least in Sherlock’s mind: all of this is Sherlock’s view of the world, not reality): he was the moment he got married (as Lestrade points out, “Well, speaking on behalf of the impossibly imbecilic Scotland Yard, that chair is definitely empty.”). But, as it happened in real life, Holmes has not given up on the possibility of retaining some part of Watson, because he’s so accustomed to having him around he doesn’t know how to function without Watson (“Works surprisingly well, though.”).

And if we are to mention the wedding, and Mary - as I said above, from the very beginning Holmes frames himself as an alternative to Victorian!Mary; as a potential partner (even a sexual partner) who will drag (who has dragged) Watson away from his wife. This couldn’t be clearer by how Holmes describes Victorian!Mary in front of Watson: “You have recently married a man of a seemingly kindly disposition, who has now abandoned you for an unsavoury companion of dubious morals”. Without context, this clearly means: a sexual companion. A prostitute, even. It is only when Victorian!Mary is revealed that we can read it as a joke of sorts (or, as we say in these desperate lands of ours: subtext).

Something which works surprisingly well to explain Sherlock’s and John’s relationship (though, in truth, it shouldn’t be surprising: Moffat and Gatiss are superb storytellers) is the story of Lord and Lady Carmichael. Now, Lord Carmichael is clearly a Sherlock parallel: if nothing else, the orange seeds he gets in the mail spell this out in a very obvious way (think about the telephone pips Moriarty used to communicate with Sherlock in season 2). We also know that Eustace Carmichael is a man with a murky past about which his own wife knows next to nothing (remember John’s surprise when he first discovered that Sherlock had a history of drug abuse?); an arrogant man who secretly knows he’s done wrong and is worth nothing (“Heroes don't exist; and, if they did, I wouldn't be one of them.”); a ‘marked man’ (Sherlock is about to OD) who fears something ‘more than murder’ (I’d say, John about to be hurt: Moriarty had threatened John before, and the thought of John being in danger had been the only thing capable of dragging Sherlock back to life after Mary had shot him). Now, Holmes spends the best part of this episode ridiculing Watson’s beliefs in the supernatural; however, when Eustace Carmichael defines his own wife as an hysteric, Holmes (Sherlock) is quick to come to Lady Carmichael’s (John’s) defence: “She's a highly intelligent woman of rare perception. (…) Your wife can see worlds where no one else can see anything of value whatsoever”. Now, this is almost _verbatim_ what Sherlock said about John during his best man’s speech (to be honest, almost any quote from that speech would do, but I like this one: “There was one feature and only one feature of interest in the whole of this baffling case - and, quite frankly, it was the usual: John Watson, who, while I was trying to solve the murder, instead saved a life.”). 

Now, it’s interesting that, in this one instance, Sherlock is paralleled with a man while John is given the role of the woman, because, in the rest of this episode, it’s the other way round. From the very beginning, Emilia Ricoletti has served as an efficient parallel for the most melodramatic aspect of Sherlock’s personality - the demented way she kept pointing at people and saying "You?" was highly reminiscent of how Sherlock solved the Mayfly Man case in _The Sign of Three_ , although there he was all sneer and brisk efficiency ("Not you."). Sherlock’s true self - well: what he _fears_ is the other half of himself, the _yin_ to his _yang_ , something he cannot live without - criminally insane Moriarty - is also coded like a woman. It was subtly made at first (Irene Adler as his mirror; Moriarty making himself at home at 221B, sleeping in Holmes’ bed, noticing the uncleaned dust and wondering idly about his hairstyle) and then it exploded in gothic silliness at the end (Moriarty in a wedding dress). And, of course, we also have Watson’s statement: “You have a past” - unless I’m very much mistaken, a Victorian phrase which normally describes women who are not untouched on their wedding nights.

All of it, though - Sherlock’s unworthiness, be it real or perceived, does not matter.

“And how do you ‘deduce’ that, Mr. Holmes?” asks Lord Carmichael.

“She married you,” Holmes says, because this is what John, ordinary, normal, noble John, has done from the start: he’s chosen Sherlock’s truth over everyone else’s (an obsession, Sherlock calls it in his best man’s speech). The first time they met, Sally Donovan was the bluntest (“One day we'll be standing around a body and Sherlock Holmes will be the one who put it there. (...) Stay away from Sherlock Holmes.”), but many other people warned John that Sherlock was insane, possibly dangerous; and yet John still understood how Sherlock’s mind worked (he got to the right place - the Roland Kerr Further Education College - in time, and way before the police could figure it out). He chose to protect Sherlock - a man he’d only just met - from himself by shooting someone dead. And we’ve seen that, despite dating a string of women (despite marrying Mary), John has always put Sherlock first; he has chosen Sherlock over and over, most noticeably when he refused to believe Sherlock was a fraud (even if Sherlock was urging him to).

I thought this parallel - a story within a story within a story - was very neat and very well made, but, of course, it was not the only sign of the high regard Sherlock has for John; of how Sherlock wishes (and perhaps fears) John’s admiration would shift into something else.

This was spelled out quite clearly at the end, of course (“There’s always two of us.” - “Why don’t you just elope, for God’s sake?”) but another obvious spell of ‘subtext slowly turning into text’ was the conversation in the shed. It’s so straightforward - and yet it looks so much like fanfiction - that I’m going to put a transcription here, so we can remember it actually happened. 

_  
WATSON: “You know, it's rare for us to sit together like this.”_

_HOLMES: “I should hope so. It's murder on the knees.”_

_WATSON: “Two old friends just talking. Chewing the fat. Man-to-man. So, a remarkable woman.”_

_HOLMES: “Who?”_

_WATSON: “Lady Carmichael.”_

_HOLMES: “The fair sex is your department, Watson. I'll take your word for it.”_

_WATSON: “Well, you liked her. ‘A woman of rare perception’.”_

_HOLMES: “And admirably high arches. I noticed them as soon as she stepped into the room._

_WATSON: “She's far too good for him.”_

_HOLMES: “You think so?”_

_WATSON: “No. You think so. I could tell.”_

_HOLMES: “On the contrary, I have no view on the matter.”_

_WATSON: “Yes, you have.”_

_HOLMES: “Marriage is not a subject upon which I dwell.”_

_WATSON: “Oh, why not?”_

_HOLMES: “What's the matter with you this evening?”_

_WATSON: “That watch that you're wearing, there's a photograph inside it. I glimpsed it once. I believe it is of Irene Adler.”_

_HOLMES: “You didn't glimpse it, you waited till I'd fallen asleep and looked at it.”_

_WATSON: “Yes, I did.”_

_HOLMES: “You seriously thought I wouldn't notice?”_

_WATSON: “Irene Adler.”_

_HOLMES: “Formidable opponent, a remarkable adventure.”_

_WATSON: “A very nice photograph.”_

_HOLMES: “Why are you talking like this?”_

_WATSON: “Why are you so determined to be alone?”_

_HOLMES: “Are you quite well, Watson?”_

_WATSON: “Is it such a curious question?”_

_HOLMES: “From a Viennese alienist, no. From a retired Army surgeon, most certainly.”_

_WATSON: “Holmes, against absolutely no opposition whatsoever, I am your closest friend.”_

_HOLMES: “I concede it.”_

_WATSON: “I am currently attempting to have a perfectly normal conversation with you.”_

_HOLMES: “Please don't.”_

_WATSON: “Why do you need to be alone?”_

_HOLMES: “If you are referring to romantic entanglement, Watson, which I rather fear you are, as I have often explained before, all emotion is abhorrent to me. It is the grit in a sensitive instrument. The crack in the lens.”_

_WATSON_ (talking over Holmes) _: “The crack in the lens. Yes.”_

_HOLMES: “Well, there you are, you see, I've said it all before.”_

_WATSON: “No, I wrote all that. You're quoting yourself from_ The Strand Magazine _.”_

_HOLMES: “Well, exactly.”_

_WATSON: “Those are my words, not yours! That is the version of you that I present to the public. The brain without a heart. The calculating machine. I write all of that, Holmes, and the readers lap it up. But I do not believe it.”_

_HOLMES: “Well, I've a good mind to write to your editor.”_

_WATSON: “You are a living, breathing man. You've lived a life, you have a past.”_

_HOLMES: “A what?”_

_WATSON: “Well, you must have had…”_

_HOLMES: “Had what?”_

_WATSON: “You know.”_

_HOLMES: “No.”_

_WATSON: “Experiences.”_

_HOLMES: “Pass me your revolver, I have a sudden need to use it.”_

_WATSON: “Damn it, Holmes, you are flesh and blood, you have feelings, you have - you must have - impulses.”_

__(Purely in the interest of linguistics, and for those whose first language is not English, may I point out that Watson is not, in fact, insisting - despite this must - but backtracking. Where he’d been sure before - You have (impulses) - he tries to take back what he’s just said because Holmes is giving him the glare of death - You must have impulses. The modal verb is used, in such cases, not as an order, but as a plead; a synonym of, ‘but, come on, surely, you -’). __

_HOLMES: “Dear Lord, I have never been so impatient to be attacked by a murderous ghost.”_

_WATSON: “As your friend, as someone who worries about you - what made you like this?”_

_HOLMES: “Oh, Watson. Nothing made me. I made me.”  
_

Now, this is obviously Sherlock talking to himself - berating himself about being so sentimental over John (reading about their first meeting while taking enough drugs to pass out - how mawkish): “What’s the matter with you this evening? (...) Are you quite well?”.

It’s also, very clearly, a conversation John never dared to have with Sherlock. He’s had it with Mrs Hudson in _A Scandal in Belgravia_ , which means he’s concerned about this in real life, which means Sherlock has picked up on it, but what was (inevitably) a tamer conversation with Mrs Hudson (“Has he ever had any kind of girlfriend, boyfriend - a relationship - ever?”) becomes quite explicit here: what Watson is asking is, very clearly, if Holmes has ever had sex with anyone. Which implies less of a tender care for Holmes’ wellbeing and more of an interest in him sexually. Which is, apparently, how Sherlock expects John would frame the issue; or, maybe, how he _wishes_ John would frame the issue.

Something else which emerges from this conversation is how much easier Sherlock finds it to define what he’s feeling using someone else’s words. He did it when explaining his relationship with Janine (“Well, we’re in a good place. It’s - very affirming.”) and he did it so clumsily John immediately accused him of talking nonsense (“You got that from a book.”). And here, again, Holmes describes himself by using Watson’s stories; these stories he so often disparages in reality (these stories he was reading and rereading over as a plane - as drugs - were carrying him away from John, forever). Here, of course, Watson is a figment of Sherlock’s imagination, so he’s really defining _himself_ (though, perhaps, from John’s eyes): still, this is both validation and gentle mockery of John’s opinions. 

(And why, oh why, does John insist in labeling and understanding you? What’s so interesting about that? Can’t you solve this, Sherlock? You can see it’s an obsession well enough, so why not go further?)

The other elephant in the room mentioned in this conversation is Irene Adler (the one important character from canon not to appear as a guest star); a character, as stated so elegantly in ivyblossom’s _The Quiet Man_ , whose significance is defined by its very absence. We learn that Watson has spied on Holmes’ possessions (just like John regularly sweeps Sherlock’s room); where Watson was looking for a proof of humanity, though, John was simply trying to keep Sherlock safe from himself (that we know of). This, however, has more to do with Sherlock’s attitude than John’s feelings (“I’ll be here if you need me.” - “Why would I need you?” - “No reason.”). The writers chose to remind us of Irene Adler as the woman who beat Sherlock (though, again, the scene they chose was tongue-in-cheek, since we saw Sherlock on the ground, being _literally_ beaten up with a whip), when in reality, Sherlock got his revenge and even saved her life. That she’d appear inside his watch, therefore, is a sign she should be linked to the _other_ person against whom Sherlock had a pyrrhic victory: Moriarty, who shot himself so that Sherlock would be forced to jump off a building and who continues to threaten England (and, quite possibly, John) from beyond the grave.

And, at this point, it’s inevitable to mention this other clear link between Moriarty and Irene Adler inside Sherlock’s MP: “Dead is the new sexy,” MP!Moriarty says, just as the real Irene Adler had said, “Smart is the new sexy”. Her photograph inside Holmes’ watch, therefore, has much more to do with what Holmes said (she was an interesting woman) than with what Watson thinks (Holmes was in love with her). Sherlock’s fascination for Irene Adler, after all, was but a mirror for his fascination for Moriarty, and derives from that same instinct which lead him to almost end his life at the end of _A Study in Pink_. 

All that said, it’s undeniable that the gist of that conversation is Watson complaining all he has to go on are his own guesses about Holmes, and Holmes acknowledging that Watson knows him better than he knows himself; is Watson fretting (in jealousy, but also in genuine care) over Holmes being alone; is Holmes saying he isn’t, not really. 

This brings us to the reminders of John as himself inside this Victorian fantasy of Sherlock’s. The first time they met (how MP!Stamford’s voice was not enough to give Sherlock pause; how Watson’s was). The whole ‘I’m not a doctor, I’m a soldier’ speech, which, in real life, happened the first time John put his hands on Sherlock (as he beat the stuffing out of him before they met Irene Adler). The moment Holmes accuses Watson of having abandoned his ‘post’, echoing how he sees their relationship in real life (“Your previous commander,” he said, absently, describing Sholto; and, of course, John immediately picked up on that: “ _Previous_ suggests that I currently have a commander.”). The one time John appears as himself, and not as Watson: as they are speeding towards the abandoned church, we see a very real John Watson shouting at Sherlock. It’s a very brief glimpse I only saw the second time around, but it’s very deftly made (the clearest sign of two worlds colliding; of Sherlock losing his grip over his own mind). And in that scene, John is wearing the same shirt he was wearing during his stag party - the night they got drunk and he ended up asking Sherlock if he was a pretty lady (the night that could have changed everything). 

And what are we to make of the ending?

Personally, I dislike open endings, which is why I was, at first, not sure about that last Victorian scene. It’s your story, and it’s your duty to tell it; I took the time to read it (to watch it), so give me a proper ending - this is how I feel. I know it’s childish, but there you go. I don’t mind a tragic ending (much), but I object to things being left undecided. 

But _are_ things being left undecided? Is this even _Sherlock_ ’s mind we’re seeing?

Sherlock, after all, has moved past his need of Gothic tales: “No need for that now - I’ve got the real thing”, he tells Mycroft, impatiently. He’s exhilarated, caught up in the Game once more. Also, the Holmes in the last scene is subtly different from the one we’ve been observing for more than one hour. He’s dressed differently (unlike the previous Holmes, who was dressed in proper Victorian garb, this one is all cosy, and the colour of his dressing gown is the same shade of violet of the so-called ‘purple shirt of sex’) and he’s definitely more buoyant, more accepting of Watson’s opinion.

“What sort of lunatic fantasy was that?” Watson asks, and my suspicion is that this is the actual John Watson talking; perhaps he’s daydreaming in the car, as Sherlock is telling them how he came to accept the fact that Moriarty is definitely dead; or maybe John is plotting his next blog entry, who knows.

In any case, this final scene betrays John’s thoughts far more than Sherlock’s. It’s John, not Sherlock himself, who is far more likely to see Sherlock as a fictional character - as a man ‘out of his time’ (what with his flappy coats, and his disregard for emotion and food and drink; the violin, and those archenemies looming everywhere). There are no brilliant deductions there, no weirdness, no replaying of unfinished conversations between them (because John doesn’t think like that). Just quiet domesticity, and a smiling Sherlock in his shirt of sex (or a metaphor of one); a Sherlock who is uncharacteristically tolerant of John’s opinions (“You’re the expert.”), and goes as far as to say he’s considered a future with John (“It was simply my conjecture of what a future world might look like, and how you and I might fit inside it.”), a future which is perhaps ‘a little fanciful’, but could also ‘come to pass’. Because, after all, when it comes down to our only true choice here - poetry or truth (“Many would say they’re the same thing.” - “Yes, idiots.”) - Lestrade had it right: it was truth all along.


End file.
